But Only If You Tell Me To
by VolceVoice
Summary: Sam says some things he doesn't mean . . .sort of . . . and Kensi walks. Can he win her back?
1. Step One: Open Mouth, Insert Foot

**Disclaimer: I'm nssociated with CBS or own any rights to NCIS:LA. I also mean no disrespect to the network, the actors, or the writers.**

**Here's another Sam and Kensi . . . multi-chaptered, I hope.**

**This is set right after "Ambush" and contains quite a few spoilers, so if you haven't seen it yet, you might want to go over to the CBS site first and watch it--it's a good one! Just don't forget to come back, please!**

*******

Kenzi managed to hold onto her adrenaline-induced temper until almost everyone had left the locker room.

She stalked toward her prey on silent feet, but he turned before she reached him. "If you ever do anything like that again," she snarled, "I'll--I'll--"

"You'll what?" he said. If he'd smirked, she could have hit him, but he looked completely serious.

She sighed and unclenched her fists. "I'll get out of the way and back you up. But, _damn it, _Sam," she said, smacking his chest. "You scared the _hell_ out of me!"

"Hey, ow." He reached out and pulled her into his arms. "I know. It wasn't a high point for me, either--I'm not the cowboy around here."

"I know." she said, snaking her arms around his waist. "Calculated risk."

"Yeah. Plus I knew you and Renko had our backs. You two kept us alive until the cavalry arrived." He rtubbed her back in slow circles.

"Yeah, well. . . " She rested her chin on his chest. "It was your idea to make us into a battalion."

"And whose slick idea was it to bounce a laser sight off Callen's head?"

She grinned. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"I hear you." He kissed the top of her head and let her go. "Don't tell Mike I gave him any credit. He's worse than Callen."

"Did I hear someone taking my name in vain?" Renko sauntered in and stopped at a locker. "Just where I left it," he said, fiddling with the lock. He opened the door, grabbed a gray gym bag and began stuffing various things into it. "I don't know about you guys, but I've done enough damage for one day."

"Finish your report?" asked Sam.

"Hetty won't be back until tomorrow. I thought I'd type it up at home and send it in."

"Living dangerously," said Sam, shaking his head.

"You know it," said Mike. "Mind if I run a load of laundry tonight?" he asked Kensi, lifting the bag.

"Please," she said. "Run two. In fact, run all of it. Start with that nasty-looking pile in the corner of my living room."

"Yes, ma'am. See you back at the ranch." He closed his locker and walked away. "See you, Sam," he called over his shoulder.

Kensi moved closer and grinned up at Sam. "So, since I saved your life and everything, what say you take me back to your place and show me a little gratitude?"

Sam stared at her. "_You're _the 'friend' Renko's living with?"

"Yeah," she said. "He needed someplace to bunk for a few days, and since Callen finally found a home--"

"He's sleeping in your _house_."

"He's sleeping on my _couch_." She stepped away and folded her arms. "What's the matter, Sam? You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust _Renko_. You know what he's like, Kensi, he's got no respect—"

"He's all talk. You know that. He's never laid a finger on me."

"Yet. I see how he looks at you when you--"

"So what? I can handle Renko if he starts anything."

"That's what I'm afraid of--" he stopped.

Her eyes widened. She nodded, lips pressure together. "Okay."

"Kensi, I didn't--"

"I have to trust you when you waltz unarmed into a camp full of paranoid mercenaries like a suicidal _idiot_, but you can't give me the benefit of the doubt when it comes to having a fellow agent—one of your _friends, _who saved your _ass_ today--sleeping in my living room for a couple of nights." She walked to her locker, threw it open, yanked out her purse, and slammed the door shut. "I don't think it's Mike who's showing a lack of respect, here."

"Kensi—" he reached for her. " I didn't mean—"

"Don't, Sam. Just don't." She stomped out, narrowly missing Callen, who threw himself to one side and watched as she marched away.

"Whoa," he said, dropping onto a bench. "What did you do?"

Sam scrubbed his face with both hands. "Acted like a complete idiot."

"There isn't a chapter on dating co-workers in your Ultimate Agent Handbook?"

"Yeah--it's indexed under _Mission Impossible_." He looked at his partner. "Renko's sleeping on her couch."

"Really?" Callen raised his eyebrows. "_Kensi's_ the 'friend' he was talking about?" He whistled. "I would have acted like an idiot, too. I've seen the way he looks at her when she--"

"Not helping, G."

"Right. You want me to move back in? I could have a little trouble with my loan."

"Thanks, but I'd better fix it on my own. 'Sides, she'd figure it out and shoot both of us."

"True,' said Callen, rubbing his chin. "She's good."

"She's _very_ good."

Callen grinned. "Then you'd better get her back."

*******

**So . . . let me know if you want to read on--you don't review, I'll assume it stinks and slink away in shame, never to write again . . . sob . . . **


	2. Never Again

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and put this on Story Alert! I hope this next bit doesn't disappoint. . .**

**I intended the second chapter to be from Sam's POV, but thought Kensi's reactions needed some explanation. It's a little darker than I thought it would be . . . but I think it works.**

**Please let me know what you think.**

*******

Kensi had driven away from OSP without any idea where she was going, but after a few turns she would have sworn were random, she found herself on Sam's street. She shouldn't be surprised, she thought, pulling up across the street from his place; she tended to end up there when she was upset, knowing that Sam would be able to calm her down, make her laugh . . .

She'd overreacted. She'd let her temper get the best of her _again_. Except the trigger to her temper had been something she couldn't ignore. She shouldn't have stormed out, but she know she couldn't let it slide.

Sam had been jealous. She firmly squashed the small part of her that might have been be glad that he cared enough to get mad. That was the first step down a familiar bad road.

She couldn't lose everything she'd worked so hard to become. Been there, done that.

She was embarrassed now about not seeing the signs in her college boyfriend. His mild jealousy had been flattering at first--she'd taken it as a joke, a mark of concern, and she'd done her best to make sure he felt secure in her love. He'd apologize and tell her it was because she meant so much to him.

But that never worked for long, and soon he was smothering her with his concerns and constant questions, making her prove her affections over and over by giving him control over more and more of her life . He finally told her she would never be strong enough to be in law enforcement--she didn't need to do anything but let him take care of her, keep her safe.

And she'd almost agreed at that point--until she'd come home one night from class, and he'd accused her of stepping out on him. When she'd tried to calm him down, he'd hit her.

She'd stared at him, towering over her, telling her it was all her fault for making him crazy. And something in her had said, _No._

He'd reached for her again--and she'd broken his nose, thrown him out, and called the police. She'd been damned lucky they'd believed her, since he was the one covered in blood. Of course, he'd refused to press charges, trying to hold that over her head, too. But she wasn't playing that anymore.

It hadn't been easy to get him out of her life--she really had loved him once, and old habits were hard to break, especially when she was alone, listening to his pleas on her voice mail, before she'd finally changed her number.

But she'd done it.

And she was a good agent, damn it, part of a team. But she could never forget that she was the only woman on it, besides Hetty, who had already paid her dues.

Until she reached that kind of position, Kensi couldn't allow anyone to protect her or treat her differently. And how she was treated in her personal life would definitely affect her professional one. She knew that from experience . . . and back then she hadn't actually been involved with a team member.

Sam was a good man--she knew that. He was kind and gentle and strong, As a junior agent, she had to follow his lead on cases, but he'd never held her back on the job. And he'd never tried to dominate her in their personal lives . . .

But he apparently reverted to type the moment she made a personal decision he didn't like.

Except that wasn't completely fair. She hadn't told him that Renko was bunking on her couch, and she could see how he might think she was keeping it a secret. And what would _she_ do if _he _had a woman sleeping under his roof and didn't bother to mention it?

And _why _hadn't she told him--had it really slipped her mind? The last case had been intense, sure, but she'd known for a day or two that Mike was coming back in.

Had she _wanted_ Sam to be jealous? Would she have been happier if he'd told her that he trusted her to do whatever she wanted to do? Was she _that_ pathetic?

She slammed her fists onto the steering wheel.

It didn't matter. She'd blown up and walked out. Traditionally, that meant it was over.

Not that there was anything traditional about their relationship. They'd never even had an actual date--Don't Ask, Don't Tell had nothing on Don't Show, Don't Get Transferred. She hadn't minded too much in the beginning--they hadn't been _involved_ at first, it had been an unexpected extension of their friendship, fun and comforting--and she had to admit the covert aspect had appealed to her somehow. But now they _were _involved, and she knew a hidden relationship wasn't what she needed, not long term.

No matter how much she loved him.

So maybe it was just as well it was over. Sam would never understand that she hadn't walked out just because he'd failed to trust her.

She'd walked out before she'd agreed to kick Mike out, just to make Sam happy.

Because she wasn't going to start that again. Not even for him.

She blew her hair out of her face, wiped her eyes, and turned the ignition. She'd go home, avoid Mike, and try to figure out how the hell to get over Sam without having a major breakdown. She had at least twelve hours before she had to see him again--oh, that was _plenty_ of time. She chuckled and sniffed, wiping her eyes again. She'd figure out her game face and go on from there. Piece of cake.

But when Kensi reached her street, Sam's car was parked right in front for her house.

*******

**So? Think I can get these two back together?**


	3. One More Chance

**This is for those who wanted Sam to suffer a little . . . **

*******

After typing up the fastest report of his career, Sam had driven to Kensi's place. He wished there was a manual for this kind of thing--give him a terrorists with stolen biological weapons and he knew what he was doing. But give him a situation like this . . .

He pulled behind Renko's car on the street and walked to the front door. He had a key for 'emergencies only'--though Kensi's ideas of emergencies often included midnight ice cream deliveries and backrubs--but he thought he'd better not try to use it.

He rang the bell and waited.

He'd apologize and explain that he did trust her and knew that she could take care of herself, but--

He rang the bell again.

--when you lo . . . cared for someone, you worried about them, even if they were one of the best agents you knew. And he'd admit that she was right about Renko being a friend and that he knew nothing would happen, even though Renko had this reputation for being a complete hound--no, better not mention Renko at all. Just be calm, rational, and--

He rang again and the door flew open, revealing a soaking wet Renko holding a towel low around his hips with one hand. "What?!" He blinked. "Sam?" His other hand dropped to his side from behind the doorframe, holding a forty-five.

"Not helping," muttered Sam. "Kensi home?"

"If Kensi was home, would I be standing here shivering in a towel?" Mike turned and padded away on bare feet, gesturing with the gun. "You're welcome to come in and wait if you want."

"Thanks," Sam said through his teeth. He shut the door behind him, locked it, and went into the living room. He could hear Kensi's washing machine agitating from the direction of its nook near the kitchen and a low hum from the dryer.

Renko was digging through a pile of clothes. "Underwear, underwear. Damn, looks like I'm going commando until the next load's done." He tossed a pair of sweatpants aside. "I doubt Kensi will mind."

The knuckles in Sam's fists cracked. "Renko," he said in a soft voice. "Show a little respect."

Mike rummaged through a second heap. "Ah, Kensi knows I don't mean it."

"If you don't mean it, why say it?"

"It's part of my charm." He grinned. "And she gives as good as she gets."

"_Renko._"

Mike glanced at Sam and straightened. "What? It's not like I'm stepping on someone else's--" He stopped and studied Sam. "Well, damn. How long has this been going on?"

"A while."

"Is it serious? Never mind, an FWB wouldn't want to rip my head off." Mike shook his head. "I _knew _she was serious about someone . . . she didn't say anything, but she wasn't paying much attention to my crap--did my damnedest, too. I didn't have a clue it was a member of the team."

"Now you do."

"I guess." Mike pushed his wet hair back. "You want me to leave?"

Sam wasn't making that mistake again. "No, I trust her."

Mike grinned. "Not me?"

"You try anything, she'll hand you your balls in a little paper bag."

"True. Guess I'd better watch my mouth from now on."

Sam chuckled. "Don't bother--your charm is part of the reason I trust her."

The front door slammed. "Sam?" Kensi came in and tossed her jacket on the only empty chair. "Sam, what are you doing here?"

"Warning me off," said Renko, with a grin.

"What?" Kensi turned on Sam, her expression angry, disappointed, and--was that fear?

"So much for watching your mouth, Renko, thanks." Was Kensi _afraid _of him?

"Don't blame me--you didn't tell me you were in the doghouse."

Sam shook his head. "Kensi, I just wanted to talk to you--to apologize. Mike let me in to wait and he guessed how I felt about you. That's all."

"That's all? You didn't come here to drive off the competition? Claim me as your personal property? Maybe lay down the law? Because I am _not_ going through that again--"

She clamped her mouth shut, but Sam knew what he'd heard. _Again?_

"Truth, Kensi," said Mike, with the serious expression he usually saved for the job. "I offered to leave and he said he trusted you. And considering how I was mouthing off--for which I _deeply_ apologize--_I _would have tossed me right out on my ass."

She looked from Mike to Sam. "Oh."

Sam risked taking her hand, and exhaled in relief when she let him. "Kensi, I—" he looked at Renko. "You mind?"

"Not at all. Oh, right," he looked down at his towel. "Uh, I'll just go put on some clothes." He grabbed his sweatpants and made for the stairs.

"Thank you," said Sam. "Kensi--"

A bell dinged and Renko changed direction. "Sorry, laundry."

Sam waited. Kensi looked like she was trying not to smile, but when their eyes met, she sobered. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

The dryer door slammed and Mike came through with a double armload, trailing socks behind him. He dumped it on top of Kensi's jacket and grabbed a pair of jeans. "These should do."

"Don't forget underwear," said Sam.

"Oh. Yeah." Mike nabbed a pair and left. "Carry on," he said, over his shoulder.

Sam took a deep breath. "Kensi, I screwed up. I should never have implied that you--"

"You didn't imply. You _said_."

He closed his eyes. "I know. And I was wrong and I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I don't have any excuses."

"No you don't . . . Sam, I'm sorry." Her breath hitched. "I can't do this . . ."

He caught her gaze and held it. "Kensi, it will _never_ happen again. I will _never_ disrespect you again. You _know_ me."

She looked away. "I thought I did. But I've heard all this before and--"

"Not from me. Kensi, I don't know what happened to you before . . . I hope you'll trust me enough to tell me sometime. But I _swear _to you thatI'll prove you can." He looked at her small hand cradled in his. "Please give me a second chance."

"That's the problem, Sam," she said, pulling away and hugging herself. "I'm . . . afraid . . . I'd give you as many chances as you want . . . I wouldn't be able to help it."

The sight of her so miserable—so _vulnerable_—damn near broke his heart. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until she was his strong, capable Kensi again, but he forced himself to stand still. He could only fix this if she wanted him to.

He _needed_ her to want him to.

"That's why I'm only asking for one. If I screw that up, you can kick me to the curb. You can even sic Hetty on me," he added, trying to make her smile, to make that helpless expression go away.

When it didn't work, he whispered, "Please, Kensi."

*******

**Well?**


	4. Say the Word

**Sorry for the delay in updating--I got attacked by another story and it wouldn't let go.**

**Here's the last chapter--hope it works!**

*******

Kensi was quiet for so long, Sam thought he'd lost--she was going to leave him. What was he supposed to do now? Getting over her was going to be the hardest thing he ever did . . .

Then she nodded. "One chance, Sam."

He drew in a shaky breath and sent a look of gratitude toward the ceiling. "Thank you." He stepped close and took her chin in his hand. "I won't let you down. I won't."

He brushed her hair from her face. "I _like_ you, Kensi," he said, daring to use what had become their own personal catchphrase. It was completely inadequate for the strength of his feeling--and had been for some time--but he didn't want to press, not now. He touched her lips to his.

She surged up on tiptoe to deepen the contact, then pulled back to finally meet his eyes. "I like you, too, Sam."

A different voice broke the mood. "What is this, fifth grade?" Renko leaned against the doorframe, wearing jeans, a clean shirt, and a wise-ass smirk. "You know, I can see it now --you two . . . _fit_." He shook his head. "Man, I go undercover for a couple of months and everything changes." He frowned. "Callen's not dating Eric or anything, right?"

Sam chuckled. "Not that I've heard."

"Good."

"Go fold socks or something for while, would you?" asked Sam.

"Sheesh. Get a different room."

"Ahem?" said Kensi. "Get a different landlady."

Mike rolled his eyes and disappeared.

Sam hugged Kensi close. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"For what? For taking care of yourself? Never apologize for that." He kissed the top of her head. "Hey, you want to come with me tonight? Let me show you a little gratitude?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Not tonight, Sam. I'm just not in the mood for . . ."

"For dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"Yeah. We could try that Chinese place Nate mentioned last week. I thought I'd run home to shower and pick you up at eight." He smiled at her bewildered expression. "I'm asking you on a date, Kensi."

"A _real _date?"

"Don't you think it's about time?"

She opened her mouth, closed it. "I--I guess. But don't enough people know about us already without deliberately rocking the boat?"

"It's a calculated risk," he said, smiling that special smile of his. "But you're worth it. We're worth it. What do you say?"

"I'm game if you are," she said, finally giving him the smile he'd been hoping he'd see again.

"Have her back by midnight, mister, or there'll be trouble," hollered Renko from the kitchen.

***

The food at Tao Gardens was as good as Nate had said, but Kensi knew it was the company that made everything taste better. And it wasn't just that Sam cleaned up _very_ well--or that he'd worn an outfit which would have won Hetty's approval _and_ made Kensi aware of exactly how broad his shoulders were.

He'd eased the insecurities that had been nagging at her for some time. They weren't gone--she knew better than that--but they weren't pressing on her mind any more.

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" He squeezed back.

"For taking me on a real, live, actual, can't take it back date."

"Anytime," he said, giving her his special smile. "How are we doing for time?" He checked his phone and signaled their waiter.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? You think Renko is going to meet us on the front porch with a shotgun?"

"No--I thought we might go to Praia." He gave the waiter his credit card. "They have a local salsa band playing tonight that's supposed to be pretty good."

"Are you serious?"

"What--you think I can't dance?"

"No." Considering the way he moved, she thought he'd be sin set to music. "Praia is my favorite club."

"I know." He signed the credit slip.

"I haven't been there for a long time." Since she'd stopped wanting to be with anyone but him.

He stood up and held out a hand. "Then let's go."

The music was excellent, the drinks were good, and Kensi had been right about Sam's abilities on the dance floor. "Where'd you learn to move like that?" she asked him as he led her, breathless, back to their table during the band's second break.

"Here and there."

She picked up her drink. "Callen could learn a few things from you."

"Let him get his own skills." He grinned.

She grinned back. "This was a good idea," she said, taking his hand.

"Of course, it was one of mine--ow, watch the nails."

She examined his fingers. "You big baby, I didn't even leave a mark."

"You could at least kiss it and make it better." He wagged his eyebrows over his beer glass.

She waited until he took a drink, then lifted his hand and touched her lips to the sensitive skin between his thumb and forefinger, watching him swallow hard, loving the way his eyes grew hot and hooded. "Better?" she asked.

He leaned close. "You trying to start something, Ms. Blye?"

"On the first date? Me?" She tasted him one more time and slipped out of her chair, setting his hand down. "I'm going to the little agent's room," she said. "Be right back."

"Evil woman," she heard him say as she walked away.

The band was starting up again as she returned, and she found herself dancing through the crowd. She emerged next to a table filled with young men who were obviously feeling no pain.

One of them whistled. "Looking _fine_," hollered another. "Come over here, baby." He patted his lap.

Kensi ignored them.. The patter got up and followed her back to Sam. "Hey, Momma," he said, weaving a little. "How 'bout a dance?"

"No thanks," she said, sitting down.

"Why not?" he said.?"

"I'm with someone," she said, pointing at Sam, who, she noticed, had shifted his seat so he could see the drunk's friends.

"He doesn't mind," said the drunk.

Sam's expression told Kensi that he did mind.

"No." She didn't bother to smile.

"Think you're too good for me?"

The band began the next set, a slower song. "It's getting late, Sam. One last dance?"

Sam nodded and got up. The drunk blinked up at the taller man. "Be that way, then," he said.

"I will," said Kensi. She led Sam to the dance floor and put her arms around him. "You were quiet back there."

"The last time I went caveman, I nearly lost you," he said, pulling her closer. "This time, I thought I'd get out of your way and back you up."

"Good call," she said.

"Don't get me wrong--I'll do some serious damage if you tell me to."

"I'll let you know." She rested her head on his shoulder for the rest of the song. "One more?" she asked.

"Come on, Cinderella. Work tomorrow."

She grumbled, but let him guide her out of the club and down the sidewalk. Just before they reached his car, the drunk and his three friends moved to block them.

"You owe me a dance, baby."

"I said no. I meant no," she said.

"Why you wanna be like that? You think I'm scared of your big man there?" He glared as Sam chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"Oh, I'm not worried," said the drunk, with a malevolent smirk. "My bros here are going to keep you busy while I show your girlfriend a good time. Then, after they get their turns, you can have her back, if you still want her." He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open. "Come on, baby."

Kensi fell into a defensive stance. "Sam," she said, without looking at him.

"Hmm?"

"You can do some damage now."

"Thank you."

***

Kensi's front door swung open. "Do you two have any idea what time--what the hell happened to you?"

"Knife fight," said Kensi.

"Fistfight," said Sam.

Renko blinked. "The other guys look worse?"

Sam and Kensi glanced at each other. "Police thought so," said Sam.

"Well, that's good." He waited. "You coming in or what?"

"Not right now," said Kensi.

"What do you mean not--"

"Good-night, Mike," said Sam.

"What? Oh, for--" Renko rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about courtship rituals of the certifiably insane and slammed the door.

Kensi picked at the torn strap on her dress. "Well, Mr. Hanna, you sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"Wait until the next date," he said. "I hear there's a great Japanese fusion place off La Cienega, right near a suspected terrorist cell."

She grinned, moving close. "Sounds like fun," she said, looking up at him. "I like you, Sam."

He stared down at her with an intent expression. "Renko's right," he said.

"About what?"

"Fifth grade." He lowered his head and kissed her so thoroughly that she had to cling to him to keep from falling. "I love you, Kensi," he said, as she looked up at him with dazed eyes. "I don't know if it's what you want to hear, but I had to say it at least once. I won't--"

She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth back to hers. "I love you, too," she whispered, when she could. "And it scares me to death."

"You'll get used to it," he said.

"I hope not," she said, caressing the side of his face.

The porch light began flicking on and off.

Sam growled. "Say the word, and they'll never find his body,"

Kensi laughed, leaning against him. "I'll let you know."

*******

**Done!**

**Let me know what you think, please.**


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